


Mouthing Off

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bathroom Sex, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: Otabek and Yuri get off in a club somewhere in LA.





	Mouthing Off

**Author's Note:**

> Late to the Welcome to the Madness party but better late than never, right?
> 
> As mentioned in the tags, characters have been aged up. Because this fic takes place in a club, it is implied that both these rascals are over 21. No fake IDs here, kiddos.

One minute, Yuri is doing a shot of vodka with Otabek.

The next minute, Otabek is sucking his fingers in a tiny bathroom stall with electronic music pounding outside. They’re not _that_ drunk, Yuri thinks. A few shots and a beer somewhere in that mix is only enough for Yuri to feel less uptight and angry about everything around him. He doesn’t care that the music is garbage compared to Otabek’s beats. He doesn’t care that this bathroom stall smells faintly of lemon cleaner. All Yuri cares about is how Otabek runs his tongue up and down his middle finger and ring finger, lips wrapped tightly around their bases and his hand curled around Yuri’s wrist. That steely gaze of his goes half-lidded when he pulls Yuri’s hand back from his mouth, teeth just barely grazing his fingertips like he wants nothing more than to be rough with him.

“Fuck,” Yuri says gruffly as he yanks his hand away from Otabek’s grip. “If you don’t suck my cock now, don’t even think about coming home with me.”

Otabek smirks, grabbing Yuri by the hips and diving in for a hard kiss. His tongue that was just blowing his fingers shoves inside Yuri’s mouth, sucking the breath out of him before biting his lower lip and undoing his belt. Leopard print, of course.

“When did we buy a home in Los Angeles?” he asks innocently.

Yuri snorts, his clean hand coming up to grip Otabek’s hair and tug. “Just go with it, Beka. I need you. On your knees.”

“Of course, darling.” He winks, unbuttoning and unzipping Yuri’s pants as he angles himself down to kneel on the tile floor with the help of Yuri’s hand in his hair pushing him down. Yuri watches him intensely, his cock so embarrassingly hard in his underwear just from Otabek sucking his fingers. He can only imagine what he’ll feel like sucking his dick. Not that it’s a new sensation; in the years they’ve been together, the two have had time to explore what they like to do to each other and _where_ they like to do it. They can cross “strange club in the middle of Los Angeles” off their list.

Otabek grips Yuri’s thighs, fingers firmly pressing into muscle that’s been hardened and worked to its peak from all of his training on the ice. He looks up, defiance in his eyes, and kisses him just above one knee. Slowly and teasingly, he works his way to Yuri’s inner thighs, up to where skin meet fabric so his lips can linger there until he finally pulls down his underwear to expose him.

Yuri’s ready to pull Otabek’s hair again but Otabek beats him to the punch. In one smooth motion, Otabek takes him whole in his mouth, lips at the base of Yuri’s cock and kissing the white-blond hair there. He sucks, fingers putting more pressure on his thighs as he holds his mouth in the same position for as long as possible. It’s unfair, Yuri thinks, for Otabek to be this skilled in getting him off with his hands and mouth. Having him like this makes his cock twitch, his head tossed back into the stall as he tries not to come so quickly and let every single person in this club know that he’s getting head thanks to all of his moaning.

When he can’t breathe anymore, Otabek pulls back, tongue coating the bottom of Yuri’s cock with saliva. A few bobs of his head keeps Yuri hot and wanting more. This time, Otabek doesn’t go all the way down, rather wrapping one hand around  He looks up expectantly at Yuri, nodding to give him the green light and the freedom to do what he wants with his mouth.

And what Yuri wants is to fuck it. With his other hand to hold onto Otabek’s on his thigh, he rocks his hips. He starts slowly, letting Otabek get used to his pace and how deep he wants to go. The tip of his cock taps the back of his throat a few times, but that few becomes a lot more once Yuri finds his rhythm, coincidentally moving with the bass that rumbles the stalls.

Otabek groans, eyes glued shut and holding onto Yuri firmly enough so that he won’t be restricted with his movements. Yuri will have to apologize later for pulling his hair so hard but none of that matters right now when his lips vibrate on his cock, that occasional and accidental brush of teeth driving Yuri to fuck his mouth harder. It’s good, it’s rough, it’s absolutely torture on Otabek’s mouth but he knows he likes it. That’s apparent when Yuri blinks several times and notices the bulge threatening to rip through Otabek’s pants. His cock twitches in the back of Otabek’s throat at the sight.

There’s more gagging and groaning, spit coating Yuri’s cock while Otabek fights the urge to touch himself while he’s being used. He wraps his lips tighter, sucking with each thrust, keeping himself steady to get Yuri to come. Yuri’s so close; Otabek knows he’s more sensitive than ever and uses that to his advantage, teeth and tongue once again working in an explosive harmony that ultimately leads him to moan loudly and pull out to come all over Otabek’s face and mouth.

Yuri spills in short bursts, stroking himself and getting his orgasm to land over the bridge of Otabek’s nose and the flat of his tongue, out like he wants to catch snow in the middle of a heated, musty bathroom. With the way Yuri is shaking, his aim falters and he manages to smear his come across Otabek’s chin, drops of white landing on the floor. At last, Yuri releases Otabek’s hair and his own cock, falling back on the wall and breathing heavily. His arms hang loose and spent at his sides.

They’re not done yet, though. Otabek pulls some toilet paper out from behind him to clean up anything he didn’t swallow, as well as dab away any tears that spilled in response to being choked. He gets on his feet with ease and stares down Yuri, still in his post-orgasmic state of humid euphoria. In a matter of seconds, Yuri is seized back into reality when Otabek grabs a hold of his wrist, fingers immediately curling around his cock freed from its confines at lightning speed.

As if Yuri’s been programmed to do so every time he sees it, he starts stroking him quickly, working in circles as tightly as he can and ignoring the ache in his fingers from gripping his hair so hard. Otabek throbs in his hand, ready to burst any second now.

It’s when Yuri circles his thumb around the head of his cock that Otabek loses himself, too. He comes hard in Yuri’s hand, snapping his hips while holding onto Yuri’s shoulders. Groans of Yuri’s name fills the bathroom, along with groans of disgust and cheers of encouragement coming from the men who were just trying to relieve themselves in peace. If Yuri wasn’t so occupied with what just happened, he’d forcefully request for them to mind their fucking business.

Speaking of what just happened, Yuri’s hand is a sticky, warm mess once Otabek slows and falls back on the opposite side of the stall. He clicks his teeth and glares at Otabek, the smuggest smile on his face. In response to Otabek sucking his fingers earlier, Yuri sticks his tongue out and licks every last drop of his come on his hand, working slowly like he would if he were the one to blow him in public. He savors everything, catching every crevice and angle of his hand until it’s completely clean.

It feels like forever when they stare at each other, the DJ’s voice outside on the dance floor screaming something incessant and cliché on top of beats so distorted it sounds nothing like the original song. Eventually, Yuri situates himself and finds his breath, pulling his pants up and getting his clothes in order. Otabek does the same. Neither of them says anything until someone bangs on the door, yelling for the two of them to get the fuck out (or something like that).

“Fuck off!” Yuri shouts in Russian. He bangs the door back at the person, who proceeds to yell more obscenities and then leave in a presumable fury based on the punch to the stall next to them and the few seconds of music filling the bathroom.

“We should go,” Otabek suggests, checking his clothes one more time to make sure they haven’t been completely ruined from kneeling on unclean tile and getting his face fucked raw.

Yuri agrees with a grunt, only to pause and lean back into Otabek for a kiss. They taste like each other and it’s several different kinds of lewd, but the one feeling that trumps all of that is the warmth Otabek exudes from his kiss, lips so soft and smooth as if they haven’t even been touched all night. Along with his lips are his hands that form around Yuri’s waist that keep each other close in spite of the sweat and heat that continues to build in this bathroom as the night goes on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and vodka shots are greatly appreciated!
> 
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